The Rescue the Princess Dream

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So an old friend of mine got a new job. That was great… only it was such a dodgy sounding job I had to go check it out.
She was working in an exotic shop, selling all sorts of things for the average drug user and incense burner. There was already a crowd of people seated in the shop, and I joined them. My friend seemed nervous, but she managed to keep her voice even as she said, “if anybody feels uncomfortable with this, please leave.” She went to remove her top, at which point I shouted, “yep! Me,” and bolted for the door.
Outside, everyone from my High School year were out doing some kind of weird group line dance, but it looked quite fun. It was more fun than being in that dodgy shop anyway. I joined in for a bit, but it was already nearing the end.
It turned out we were in the courtyard of the King. I was with Gwaine from BBC’s Merlin, and we were trying to figure out how to free the princess from the King’s tyranny. In fact, there were a lot of us trying to do so. I was part of this rebel alliance, only I had no idea what was going on.
A woman in rags lay down with Gwaine and told him he would impregnate her one day. He was absolutely fine with that, and they went off to fulfil her little prophecy.
I on the other hand, realised my bedroom window was one window higher and to the left of the princess’. I threw down a quick note in highlighter pen, and surprisingly she sent a note back. We swiftly became pen pals, and I was the only person she would ever write back to. But soon the King cottoned on. He became nosey. He wanted to see all the notes that passed between us, but couldn’t arrest us because he had no proof of the treason we were trying to commit.
One hot day, the Princess and I were both in the courtyard, enjoying the sunshine and ignoring each other’s presence for the sake of secrecy. The King knew, though. He watched us like a hawk, and saw the Princess give me an elegant Chinese scroll with her latest note on. Before I could read it, he snatched it out of my hand. As he unravelled it, I saw a small box TV at the edge of the courtyard. Written on it were the words “Starlight + Parveen + Madge.” I knew it was a call to action… but I had no idea what it meant.
Straight after though, a group of people began singing Starlight by the Supermen Lovers. Action broke out, and as the King angrily stomped over to me, I calmly but quickly walked over to the Princess, grabbed her by the arm and frogmarched her away. A friend of mine, who’d been talking to the Princess, stood glaring at me, knowing what I was up to. She’d never forgive me.
And I was right. The next day I went shopping with my boyfriend to a shop I’d created in a previous dream. It was an awesome shop, always filled with my kind of clothes, and always within budget. He’d gone to the second floor way before me, so I went upstairs to find him. The staircase had a mirrored wall, so I saw their reflection before them. It was my ex friend, out with my boyfriend’s ex. They saw me and made “ugh” noises until I passed them and one of them said, “what a gimp.” I laughed at their poor attempt to make me feel small.
I found my boyfriend, and we continued shopping.
I don’t know what happened to the Princess.

Anyone Else?

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These are a few things in my life that other people have often deemed weird, and it got me wondering if anyone else has these traits/habits in their life? Brace yourself… you’re about to learn a lot about the awkward side of me!

– Writing over talking.
I absolutely suck at talking. I get tongue-tied, I stutter, I talk too fast. I mishear what other people say, I go bright red and generally suck at small talk. That’s not to say I don’t like hanging out with people… I’m just not all that good at it.
Writing, however, I can do. And I like to think I do it well. It means I have time to think over what I say before I say it, and potentially cause offence or dig a hole I don’t want to be sat in. If I’m talking about emotional subjects, I get choked up and can’t make any sound… but with writing I really get down how I feel.
It’s my release.

– Eye Contact.
Something else I’m rubbish at. For some reason, whether it be in a one on one conversation or just walking past a stranger on the street, eye contact makes me feel uncomfortable. And yet it’s an important part of a conversation (unless you’re blind or have a lazy eye, I guess). If we don’t make eye contact, we appear disinterested… and yet looking at someone for too long makes it feel like they’re gazing into my soul. It’s disconcerting!

– Straightening Things.
If something is wonky, out of place or not on properly, I have to sort it. The little urge will literally nag at my brain until something’s done about it. The same happens with glass collecting at work. If I see empty glasses lying about the place, I have the insatiable urge to pick them up and take them to the bar. Guess I’m slightly OCD!

– Making lists for Everything
I would be completely lost without my lists. I have lists for books I want to read, shopping lists, birthday and Christmas present lists, to-do lists, spending lists, random lists… the lot. I’m a listaholic.

– Workaholic.
If I have nothing to do, I get bored. That’s not to say I have no hobbies – Hell, I have them by the bucketful. But if I had nothing steady to do throughout everyday life (like education or a job) I’d lose the plot. I always like finding stuff to do or taking more stuff on, because there’s nothing worse than standing or sitting around doing f-all.
I’m currently working on the current edition of my Uni’s Creative Writing magazine The Writer’s Quibble and doing work experience with proper writing work for a marketing company called Inside Out Creative, who are awesome for taking me on. Then there’s my weekend bar job, making arrangements for travelling home for Summer and making costumes for my Disney themed 20th birthday (I am such a grown-up) (I shall also be blogging about these costumes soon – watch this space!)
So yeah, I’m busy! But that won’t stop me getting stressed and complaining about my workload.

Please feel free to comment any weird stuff you do or if you do the above too – make me feel better about myself!

The Survival Dream

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Another Zombie dream (sorry guys, I swear I’m not obsessed!) Almost everyone I knew contracted the disease in this one. The world was in turmoil and close to collapse, and I was one of the very few left who hadn’t turned.
I snuck into a posh private school with underground classrooms. I had been sent a message about this place holding the final safe haven, and I hoped they were right.
In one of the rooms I found a class of children studying at old-fashioned desks as if the world outside wasn’t anything but ordinary. They all had their white shirt, black tie uniforms on, and all turned their heads to me as I walked through the door.
Their teacher recognised me instantly, and sprung into action. She clapped her hands and told seven of the pupils to stand up and follow us.
She led us to a cupboard-like room, just off from the class. It had a secure steel door, and steel barred walls. However, if you looked close enough you could still see through into the room beyond. Still, it was better than outside.
The teacher handed us all provisions; food, drink, anti-disease gloves with touchscreen-capable fingertips, light up trainers to help us run faster if we needed to… etc.
We heard a bang from above. They were here.
This was the point where the last person I knew who was truly alive decided to do that whole martyr thing you see in movies and think, “why? You don’t need to sacrifice yourself!”
He left us the food and drink, but took the other provisions. He gave me a final hug farewell, and left.
The zombies filed into the hallway in a line. Some of the other schoolchildren were amongst them. They turned and sniffed in our direction. Someone next to me rustled their bag, and I shot them a look. We were silent after that.
The Zombies were trying to look through the bars, but not succeeding very well. Until the teacher said something along the lines of, “you won’t get us in here, undead scum,” and I think I legitimately facepalmed in my dream.
An old woman got closer then, and stuck her arms between the bars, my friend’s gloves covering her hands. She hissed a laugh, knowing I’d understood what happened.
I grew angry, pulling at the gloves and yelling, “give them back!” When I’d retrieved them, I grabbed the pair of shoes tied together at the laces and started bashing at her arms with them. She withdrew. But she was still smiling creepily, and it was then I realised she’d been giving me a hint. Barely a few seconds later, I saw my friend in the window.
Oops. We had a window.
He was looking in, looking the same as usual, only his eyes were vacant. He bashed the window with his hands, and the window cracked. Then he shoved his head through, and it shattered.
However, in the process, a piece of the glass managed to behead him. And then erm… a chipmunk popped out from the decapitated body.
From beyond the wall, I heard another body shatter, and the hum of wings appear. Suddenly I was in the mind of the chipmunk, running free with my bird friend to live a life of peace and happiness, with no humans in sight.

The Shark Infested Train Dream

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I was swimming in the middle of the ocean, as you do. It was a beautifully calm day on the azure sea. I held onto a rock with the girl I was swimming with as we caught our breath and took in the sights.
A few metres away, we saw a fin… no, two. A dolphin leapt out of the water, closely followed by a shark. The dolphin grabbed onto a ledge with its mouth, just as the shark’s jaw encased the dolphin’s tail.
I looked at the person next to me, then back at these two overgrown fish, hanging off a cliff like Mufasa’s death scene.
Eventually the shark let go and plopped back into the water. That’s when we started to worry.
We saw the fin coming directly for us, but then swerve a little as it found another dolphin. They got dangerously close to us.
That’s when the train fell over. At first it sort of sat on top of the water, but then it started to sink. People milled out of the windows and tried to keep it afloat. Me and the girl just continued to stare.
I was surprised the shark was too preoccupied to noticed the dozens of fresh juicy humans in his habitat. I guessed he just had a thing for dolphins.
Eventually, just as the train was starting to tip, I swam over to help. Somehow I must have had superhuman strength, or just have been the last amount of energy needed to right the train… I’m going to go with the first one.
We began to carry and swim the train in the hope of finding land (don’t ask how the train got there in the first place).
But the further we went on, the more the train sank. I was worried about all the elderly and children and any non-swimmers who were still sat in the train. Eventually, almost everyone lost their grip, or it became to heavy as the water gushed inside.
I was the only one left holding on, and the train was swirling around me in a circle, crushing me, dragging me under. It seemed I could breathe underwater, but what use was that if I was stuck under the wreckage of a train and its passengers?
And it would only be a matter of time before more fierce-some underwater predators than the previous shark found us.
There was nothing I could do but succumb.

The Work Dream

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I was late for work. I knew it… and yet I still wanted to rearrange the kitchen. I moved all the straws from one drawer into another… and then fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was 11pm, and I was due in at 9. It was then I realised I was in serious trouble.
I went back to my room and checked my phone. 9 messages.
“Where are you?”
“Okay seriously, this isn’t good.”
“For fuck’s sake, get here now.”
“You’re a complete bitch.”
“Oh, and thanks for the attempts on my life.”
“Just wait till I see you again.
“*Passage from the Bible.*”
etc.
I got ready as quickly as possible. I ran to work whilst trying to reply to her texts. I hadn’t even eaten!
On the way I was stopped by a Big Issue salesperson, and for the first time ever I bought one, because I figured, hey! It might make me look a bit better tonight.
I got to work. Everyone was in casual clothes and literally every member of staff was in. And they seemed to be selling something other than alcohol.
They were selling ice cream.
But not just any ice cream. These ice cream cones were made of jewels. Edible jewels. And we had to make them from scratch. But they were selling extremely fast in this muggy weather.
My manager came up to me. She was not happy.
“Let me try to explain…”
“Let’s forget about tonight for now. Get behind the bar.”
I did as I was told, and I was determined to make a good impression. I asked someone to teach me how to make the cones. The jewels came in lines already, much like those tiles you can get in B&Q. I had to use this purple putty stuff to stick it to the side of a pointed glass and wind my way around it.
So then my dream shifted into work mode – I served customers, pulled pints… and felt doubly as tired when I woke up. After all, I’d just done two shifts in a row.

The Dinner Party Dream

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I stole a sandwich from Sainsburys for Johnny Depp. I know, I shouldn’t have done it. I knew it was a bad omen from the moment I escaped the security guard.
That night, we watched from our hotel window as a FlyBe plane flew low into a thunderstorm. We thought it made it out. But then engine caught fire, and it crashed down into the city and exploded.
We were evacuated. I went to my real mum’s house (wait… I was adopted?!) where I stole some candles while we waited for my sister’s dinner party.
They told me to go freshen up, so I went upstairs to find some clean clothes. I took out the underwear drawer and emptied its contents all over the floor.
Suddenly, my legs felt really itchy. I shook them, and hundreds of little spiders fell off, crawling amongst the underwear.
It wasn’t pleasant.
The party was actually a pretty big event, about a big launch of something or other. We went out on the domed roof at one point to watch the event in person, but it was too cold and we weren’t out for long.
The party was full of celebrities, like Emma Watson and Domhnall Gleeson. The celebs played a game called, “I bet I could steal your wife,” and they wrote on the walls behind them how they would do it.
I made friends with a lot of people that night… but they all left me on my own as soon as they found someone else.
I walked past the reception desk, and one of the men behind it stopped me and asked for my name.
“Claire.”
“Kairi?”
“No, Claire. Though I can be Kairi if you want.”
He proceeded to ask me if I had Elder Scrolls Online. I said no, and he shook his head in sheer disappointment. I picked up on of the PS4 controllers on the desk, and yanked it apart. Apparently the two halves were magnetic.